


16

by stelleappese



Series: 30 drabbles [9]
Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, also some reminiscing, but mostly just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleappese/pseuds/stelleappese
Summary: In hindsight, the fact it took them so long to fuck is the most surprising thing of all.





	16

In hindsight, the fact it took them so long to fuck is the most surprising thing of all.  
It took literal decades, scraped knees, nights spent awake, solving their disagreements by rolling around in the dirt punching one another, hours and hours practicing sign language. The first time Numbers broke somebody’s bones, it was for Wrench: it took that too.  
It took countless motels, split knuckles, knowing how to assemble and disassemble a gun, cleaning the blood off each other’s face; it took crawling into each other’s bed, stitching each other’s wounds, being slammed against a wall and kissed until they were both gasping for air.  
All of that. All of that took them where they are now, in a room dark apart from the orange glow of the street lights, the bed creaking underneath them, Wrench’s fingers digging into Numbers’ hips. Maybe Numbers should be surprised at how much he doesn’t care about everything he usually cares about, but he isn’t. Keeping his distance, showing no sign of vulnerability, trying not to let Wrench know when he’s scared. Boundaries. How can he care about boundaries, now? With Wrench leaning forward, wrapping an arm around Numbers’ chest and pulling him up, pressing himself against Numbers’ back as he thrusts into him.  
He doesn’t care. There’s nothing to care about, apart for the way Wrench’s hand moves to Numbers’ throat and stays there. It would normally be such a threatening, violent gesture, but Wrench touches Numbers much in the same way he would touch a wounded bird. And the heat, the shivers, the feeling of Wrench’s lips against his shoulder; it’s all  _so much_.  
“ _Fuck_ …” Numbers whines, and the fingers around his throat twitch. Wrench’s free arm moves around Numbers’ stomach, he almost flops on top of him. His rhythm falters, his breath hitches.  
The surprise really is all in their timing. This was bound to happen from the moment they met each other. After all, they have never really been good at being two separate beings.


End file.
